


Three's Company

by fuzipenguin



Series: Razor's Edge [10]
Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: BDSM, Bondage, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, M/M, Multi, Open Relationships, Other, Switching, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-19
Updated: 2018-08-19
Packaged: 2019-06-29 19:57:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15736323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuzipenguin/pseuds/fuzipenguin
Summary: Jazz and Bluestreak get a visitor...





	Three's Company

**Author's Note:**

> dracoqueen22 asked: Oh oh oh oh oh. How about.... Ratchet/Bluestreak/Jazz and the prompt "one's company, two's a crowd, but three is a party?" ;)

          “I can’t believe he’s here!” Jazz hissed as Ratchet made himself comfortable on Bluestreak’s berth. Bluestreak allowed Jazz the break from role only because he had started trembling as soon as Ratchet had entered the room and didn’t seem inclined to stop. Bluestreak couldn’t quite tell if the shivering was from excitement or apprehension.

          “You the one who asked him,” Bluestreak replied, smiling faintly as he wrapped the thin rope around Jazz’s wrist. It was a deep red that complimented Jazz’s colors beautifully. And the rope was strong enough to hold Jazz’s entire weight without issue. 

          “I didn’t think he’d come!” Jazz exclaimed, peeping an anxious glance over Bluestreak’s shoulder. 

          “Oh, I will be,” Ratchet piped up from his seat, probably grinning with glee, if Bluestreak knew him. “And knowing what Blue has in store for you…so will you.” 

 

\--

 

          “Harder.”

          Bluestreak paused a moment, blinking at Jazz. His partner looked down at him, naked white optics wide and pleading. The bit in his mouth was still in place, so the demand couldn’t have come from him. 

          A hot frame pressed itself against Bluestreak’s back, clever fingers finding the gaps in plating over his hips and delving beneath to tickle the edges. “He can take it,” Ratchet murmured into Bluestreak’s audial. “Can’t you, Jazz?”

          Jazz whined an assent from deep in the back of his intake. The rope holding him taut practically vibrated with his trembles and his hips canted up enticingly. Bluestreak gave him a pleased smile, Jazz’s optics shutters fluttering in pleasure at the wordless praise.

          “Of course he can take it,” Bluestreak agreed, snuggling back against Ratchet’s frame with a sinuous shimmy. Then he pushed away from that enticing hold, whirling and shoving the handle of the whip into the hollow of Ratchet’s throat. “Can you?”

          Ratchet blinked at him in surprise. Bluestreak raised an orbital ridge in challenge and slid the handle’s tip up until it nudged just beneath Ratchet’s chin. “Well… slave?”

          Ratchet grinned wryly for a moment and then his expression blanked. He dropped his gaze and tucked his arms behind him, crossing his wrists at his lower back. 

          “How would you like me, sir?” 

          As Bluestreak considered his answer, Jazz groaned as if he were dying. 


End file.
